


This time

by waitwaitwaitok



Category: CW Network RPF, Vampire Diaries (TV), Vampire Diaries RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitwaitwaitok/pseuds/waitwaitwaitok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian's boyfriend Steven cheats on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This time

Ian trotted down the front steps from the old farmhouse and slammed into the waiting car without turning to see if Steven was following. He’d had enough. If the kid couldn’t figure out what he wanted, it was his own damn problem. They only had twenty minutes to get to set, and the slutty little prima donna could just get over himself and get his ass in gear. He looked around and saw Paul and Mike snoring in the back seat. Their driver, Jamal, looked bored. He was into see no drama, hear no drama, discuss no drama. Smart kid. 

A few minutes later Steven strolled out, shoving Paul over as he climbed into the back seat. Paul grumped, but slid over towards Mike, barely opening his eyes. Jamal just yelled “seatbelts” before starting the car. He didn’t put it into gear until he heard each one click, though. It was worth his job if one of them got hurt because they didn’t have on a seatbelt. No one in the celebrity business had ever forgotten Princess Di. 

Ian looked carefully straight ahead, giving no opening for the little shit while he put his earphones in to listen to his voicemail. There wasn’t anything there he needed to hear, but being preoccupied was his best defense. Even over the drone of his messages, he heard Steven sigh dramatically, like he had something to be upset about. Ian was over it. He really wished at this point that he’d never gotten involved with a co-star. His other relationships with co-stars had turned out fine, but this one was proving the conventional wisdom. He could hear his mother saying, “clichés are clichés for a reason”. Usually accompanied by “you lie with dogs you get fleas”, when she was trying to make a point about people you shouldn’t trust. Funny how parents got smarter the older you got.

As they pulled up to the house in Sandy Springs where they were filming today, Ian saw Nina and Kat sitting out by the pool giggling with their heads together. Oh shit. Last time those two were conniving together the party had taken on humongous proportions. Ian hadn’t come down for two days, and his stomach hadn’t calmed down for a week. Maybe he needed a weekend away. Alone. 

“Cut!” Ian lay down on the spot, looking up at the sky and panting. The Georgia heat was killing him, running like a maniac through the woods. He’d seen Jared Padalecki give an interview one time about how tough it was to run back and forth all day for the cameras and had laughed, wishing he had a steady series to bitch about. Be careful what you wish for. No wonder Jared had turned into Mr. Fitness. And he was filming in Vancouver. It never got above 65 degrees there. 

Ian liked working out, but vampires weren’t supposed to sweat like this. One of the PAs ran up to him with a water bottle, and he wanted to pour it over his head. She critically eyed his makeup and yelled at the director, “Ian’s makeup is dripping”. Ian shook his head against the crackly pinestraw. He heard Paul snicker nearby. Closing his eyes he emoted, “the vampires are melting...” in a craggy high pitched voice. He heard Steven’s voice, “well, the old ones are, anyway.” No one laughed. Awkward. The director called “15 minutes”. Ian sat up and turned toward the air conditioned house without looking towards Steven. He wanted to slap some sense into him. Professionalism was everything in this business. No one cared who you fucked, but showing personal negativity on set could only hurt you. Steven knew that. In this young person’s business, only mature-acting youngsters survived. Even if your granddaddy was Steve McQueen, Stevie.

Claire handed him an ice-tea as he walked in the door, frowning. “What’s wrong?”  
He shook his head, “Steven’s being a brat.”  
“Oh shit. What now?” Even cussing sounded elegant coming from her mouth.  
He looked at her for a minute, then looked around. No one else was in the kitchen at the moment, so he sat down at the table with her. “I went out last night. He said he wanted to break up, so I took him at his word.”  
She looked at him like he was a moron. “Are you kidding? That kid is crazy for you!”  
“Yeah, well, he was also crazy for the new PA, in the bathroom of the restaurant at dinner yesterday.”  
“What?” Her eyes were gorgeous when she opened them that wide.  
He laughed, sort of.

“I told him I wasn’t into sharing, and he said that was fine, we didn’t have to date. Ergo, I went out last night, and got home around 4.”  
“Where’d you go? That Eagle’s Club again?”  
“Hey, that place is so laid back it’s not funny. Atlanta’s not LA. People here believe in discretion. Even if they knew who I was they wouldn’t say so.”  
“But, but...”  
“I know. I wore a hat, and some makeup, and that place is dark at night, so no one got a picture.”  
She shook her head. “Nina’s going to kill you. You could out her too, you know.”  
“Stop fussing. It’s unbecoming.”  
She narrowed her eyes at him, then arched an eyebrow. “I’ll show you unbecoming.”  
They both laughed.

One of the makeup girls poked her head in the door. “Both of you – makeup, now.” They smiled back and followed her to the makeup trailer, like the nice talent they were supposed to be. 

Niceness was the underrated currency in this business. It was what got talent hired over and over. At least on your way up the ladder. Some brattiness at the top was tolerated, but only so far. Look at Tom Cruise. A few public brat fits, and he was on his way down. Firing the best agent in Hollywood, who’d kept his real personality out of the press, was a really stupid move on his part. 

Keeping your faults to yourself was always the best policy. Especially if you were gay. He didn’t care if it was working for a few actors. For the majority, it was career suicide. He’d known the risks last night, and he’d hate to have to start dating again, but he’d be damned if he’d put up with that crap from Steven. It was over, he suddenly decided. He couldn’t deal with someone he couldn’t trust in his personal life. He had enough of that in the business. The only thing left was The MoveOut. Damn, he liked the farmhouse. Maybe he could kick Steven out, he mused. Pack his stuff in boxes and suitcases and call Jamal to come get it all. Book him a room at the hotel. Change the locks. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. The farmhouse was his before Steven moved in, and he loved the peace and quiet. There weren’t any neighbors in sight, and he could kick back on the porch and listen to the quail and the blackbirds. 

His mind made up, he tuned back in to his surroundings. The discussion about where the next party was going to be didn’t interest him very much. Parties were a dime a dozen in this business, and everyone wanted the recognizable talent to attend them, to impress other people and make their parties seem more important. He seemed to be outgrowing his need for that kind of recognition. He wanted more stability, more calm. He liked his work, but he wasn’t sure he liked the lifestyle that went with it anymore.

After his last scene Ian grabbed Jamal and told him his plan. He asked him to take him back to the house now, before everyone else got finished, and wait while he packed up Steven’s stuff. Jamal shook his head and looked worried, but agreed. He kept looking at Ian during the trip, though, and Ian finally asked him what he was so worried about. “Well, Steven’s not going to like this, and I really need this job, if you know what I mean.” Ian knew he was supporting his mom and two little sisters. Ian thought for a minute. “You’re right. I’ll go back with you to the set with the suitcases and I’ll tell him there that he’s not coming back. That way you won’t have anything to do with it. You’re just the driver. Will that work?”

Jamal looked relieved. “I think so, Mr. Ian.”  
“But only if you’ll quit with the Mr. crap,” Ian laughed. Jamal laughed back, breathing easier. He even came in and helped Ian get the suitcases and pack everything up and load it in the car. That made it easier, too, because Ian couldn’t stop and second guess his decision. He couldn’t look at the cuff links he’d given Steven for his birthday or the hat he’d worn fishing last month and mull over the good times they’d had together and wish that Steven was in the relationship for the long term. Obviously it wasn’t true, and he didn’t want to waste more time with someone that wasn’t looking for the same thing. 

Back at the set, he tried to get Steven to step around the house and get a little privacy for the scene they had to play, but Steven would have none of it. He stood still, mule-faced, and asked Ian what he wanted. Ian sighed. “I packed your stuff up, and it’s in the car. I don’t want you to come back to the farmhouse.” He didn’t know how else to say it so it sounded nicer. He could hardly look Steven in the eyes.

Steven didn’t react well, as Jamal had predicted. He acted like Ian was the nastiest person on the planet, just throwing him out for no reason at all. “I can’t believe you. Yesterday you loved me, and today I’m the trash you’re throwing out.”  
Ian finally couldn’t resist. “You’re the cheater! What did you expect?”  
“Like you didn’t cheat on me!” Steven threw at him.  
“Uh, no, Steven, I haven’t.” He said it seriously, frowning in confusion. Where the fuck did that come from?  
Steven stopped still and looked at him, eyes wide. “Really?”  
“Really. What the fuck?”

“But...” Steven’s eyes drifted and Ian could tell he was thinking through something. “Then...”, he paused, and looked at the ground and kind of wilted. “Aw, fuck”, he whispered. He turned away from Ian and started to walk away. Ian followed, letting their steps get them farther away from the onlookers. They went around the side of the house, and then Ian stopped Steven, pulling his face around to look him in the eye. “What the fuck, man?”

Steven’s eyes were wet and he was trembling. Ian couldn’t tell if it was anger, or fear, or what.

“Hey, talk to me.”

Steven took a deep breath. “I... I... James told me he saw you deep kissing Nina yesterday. I thought....” For an actor, his face was so fucking transparent. He looked like he’d lost his best friend.

“And you believed fucking James without talking to me? Didn’t it occur to you he just wanted to get in your pants, man?” Ian couldn’t believe it. He fucking couldn’t believe it.  
Steven lifted his eyes back to Ian’s, face crumpling. “No”, he whispered. “I just thought...”

Rage welled up in Ian’s chest. He couldn’t tell if he was angrier at Steven or James. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Don’t move. Don’t hit. Don’t... just don’t. He stood his ground and waited through it. When he finally got himself under control again, he opened his eyes. Steven was staring at him, in fear this time. He knew how bad he’d fucked up, then. He really did care, after all. Ian looked at him. “What do you want from me, Stevie?” he asked softly. 

“I.. I want you”, he tried. He flinched when Ian’s face changed. “I love you”, he finally breathed out, frowning, lips poking out. “I don’t know how... You’re so much older and I.. You don’t need a kid like me. What do you want with me?” he asked uncertainly. 

Ian stepped into his space, looking him in the eyes. “I want you. I love you, you little shit. Don’t you ever pull anything like this again. I don’t share, you got me?”

Steven smiled tremblingly and finally put his face into Ian’s shoulder and hung on tight. Ian could feel the adrenaline running through both their bodies and wished he could just drop Steven down and take him, right there, to claim him. Civilization sucked. He grabbed Steven’s arm and dragged him in through the front door and up the stairs, to the master bathroom. They had the whole house rented for the shoot, even though they only filmed downstairs. He slammed the door and locked it, and put his hand on Steven’s throat, squeezing just a little, as he undid Steven’s belt with the other hand, and reached in and grabbed his cock, roughly. He pulled on it and twisted it, and Steven moaned. He shoved Steven’s pants down, and undid his own jeans. He leaned on Steven’s throat one more second, then dropped his hand under Steven’s ass and pulled him up against the door, lifting one limber leg high and shoved his cock in as hard as he could. Steven choked on his scream, arching his neck. Ian knew it hurt, but he didn’t care. Actions came with consequences. He pumped in and out, using his knees for leverage, savagely shoving in and out. “Come for me, Stevie. This is all you’re gonna get. So you’d better come just like this. Owned.” He was practically snarling. Like Damon. He did pull on his own emotions to play characters, after all. He snapped his hips again, and just like that, Steven came, crying out, and moaning, and tears ran down his face. And finally, Ian started to calm down. He pulled Steven away from the door and laid him down on the giant fluffy bath rug, still connected with his cock. And then he grabbed Steven’s hips and pushed in again. It only took three more shoves before he let go and came inside the boy, feeling the overwhelming relief that came from not only his orgasm, but realizing he hadn’t been wrong. 

Steven really did love him. The rug that had pulled out from under him last night was finally back in place. This beautiful boy really had rocked his world. Up until last night he’d thought they were just playing. Now he knew better. 

He looked down and kissed Steven’s lips gently, caressing them with his, running his lips over the rest of his face, and rubbing his scratchy chin over the soft smooth cheeks beneath his. He didn’t want to pull out. He wanted to stay here until his cock swelled up again, and shove the truth into him some more. But reality finally intruded. He didn’t know what the rest of the group was doing, but this had been way too public for his taste. “What are you going to do the next time someone tells you something about me, baby boy, hmm?” He asked softly, but with a gravelly edge to his voice. 

Steven looked uncomfortable. “I’m going to trust you”, he muttered. 

“I’m never going to get tired of you, baby. But if I did, I’d pay you the courtesy of telling you, I promise you that. Ok?”

Steven nodded. “Ok. I’m sorry.” His voice was really low, embarrassed. 

“We’ll live. This time.”

After they finally got home, Ian brought in the hastily packed clothes and boxes and started unpacking them. Steven helped quietly. He moved slowly, and Ian realized that his attack had probably really hurt. “Lay down, Stevie. Let me take care of you.” He couldn’t quite apologize because he wasn’t sorry. It still really fucking hurt to think of him blowing James in that bathroom, and he didn’t think a little physical pain was too much to pay for the emotional pain he’d caused. 

Steven lay down on the bed and Ian gently undressed him, sliding his hands over the beautiful abdomen, and down his hips, blowing gently on his cock. He grabbed some antibiotic ointment and circled his asshole with his fingertips while licking the underside of his dick. He gently smoothed it just barely inside, to the sound of Steven’s quiet, high pitched keening. He kept going, smoothing the outside lips of his ass with cream and sucking and building the pleasure for his boy until he came in his mouth. Ian swallowed every drop, humming, enjoying the sight of Steven coming apart under him, soothing him until he slept.


End file.
